


warm inside

by bardicaberration



Series: winter prompt challenge [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardicaberration/pseuds/bardicaberration
Summary: The door to the Farmer’s Inn crashed closed behind him as he stomped through the doorway, shaking snow from his cloak like a…Well, like a wet wolf. He grimaced, then noticed ten sets of wide eyes staring. With a grunt, Geralt pushed back the hood of his cloak and halfheartedly raised his hand to the barkeep, who nodded in recognition.Or, a take on an old fandom staple: huddling for warmth, for day 2 of thewinter prompt challenge.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: winter prompt challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041406
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	warm inside

The wind slammed the door open with a bang and Geralt shivered, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth chattering. It was an involuntary reaction to the cold, one that he resented hadn’t been mutated out of him. The door to the Farmer’s Inn crashed closed behind him as he stomped through the doorway, shaking snow from his cloak like a…

Well, like a wet wolf. He grimaced, then noticed ten sets of wide eyes staring. With a grunt, Geralt pushed back the hood of his cloak and halfheartedly raised his hand to the barkeep, who nodded in recognition. Geralt had only been on the path for a handful of years—what was a decade to a Witcher, anyway— and Ivan was always kind to the Witchers passing through. The inn was nestled in a small town at the foot of the Blue Mountains, the last pathetic glimpse of shitty civilization before the grueling trek to Kaer Morhen where, Geralt assumed, he would continue to freeze his balls off in the drafty old keep while being subjected to near-total darkness for months on end.

As far as Geralt was concerned? Winter could kiss his pasty-white Witcher arse.

The eyes had drifted back to their own tables and the hum of quiet conversation filled the room. Geralt crossed the small room in a few steps, pausing briefly to enjoy the warmth of the fire roaring in the grate. He nodded to the barkeep, who placed a small skeleton key on the bar top and slid it across the sticky wood. Geralt fished a handful of crowns from the depths of his cloak and handed them to Ivan.

With a small grunt of appreciation, Geralt picked up the key and wound his way through the tables towards the rickety staircase. A week’s worth of tamped-down anticipation roiled in his gut, finally allowed to boil over; excitement fizzed and popped in his chest like bubbles and he took the stairs two at a time, thrumming with electricity. He skidded to a stop in front of the last door on the left, knocked twice, and slid the key in the lock, muscle memory jiggling it up and down automatically. With a _snick_ , the lock turned and he tumbled through the door, quickly righting himself and looking up at the sound of a soft huff of laughter from the bed.

Eskel hadn’t even looked up from his book. He licked a finger and turned the page of his book—a romance novel, from what Geralt could make out in the dim firelight—and grinned.

“Heard you from outside, brother”

Geralt leaned back against the door until it clicked into place. Deliberately, Eskel folded down the corner the page to mark his place and snapped the book closed. He looked up and they locked eyes. Geralt felt his Witcher-slow heart thud against the inside of his chest. Eskel quirked an eyebrow and Geralt growled, sound resonating from deep in his chest, as he clawed at the clasps of his cloak and tossed it to the ground. Hopping first on one foot, then the other, he removed his boots; they landed with a muffled thud atop the cloak. And then Geralt—down to his soft black traveling shirt and leather trousers—took a running leap and landed on the bed atop a very warm Eskel.

A puff of warm breath hit his cheek as the air was punched out of Eskel’s lungs. Geralt groaned, high and reedy, as he nuzzled his nose into Eskel’s warm neck.

“Gods, you’re so fucking warm and it’s so fucking cold,” Geralt whispered. He ran his hands down Eskel’s sides and tucked them between the strong muscles of his back and the mattress, sighing as the tips of his fingers began to prickle with warmth.

Eskel grunted and in one graceful movement they flip, Eskel pinning Geralt to the bed beneath his knees. Geralt whined at the lost contact, shoving ineffectively at Eskel’s chest.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t done yet!”

Eskel laughed and Geralt felt a different kind of warmth start to wash through him. He shivered lightly, winding his fingers into the extra fabric of Eskel’s shirt and tugging gently. Eskel remained steadfastly immovable, though, his thighs heavy on Geralt’s as the bulk of his torso eclipsed the soft firelight. Geralt whined softly; it was a noise he’d describe as reedy and pathetic in anyone else’s presence.

Eskel chuckled softly, rubbing his hands quickly up and down Geralt’s sides. Shocked by the force of it, Geralt twitched, and Eskel laughed again, full and throaty. He leaned his face down close to Geralt, amber eyes flashing dangerously. Geralt licked his lips, panting slightly and—

Eskel licked a long stripe up Geralt’s cheek.

“Eurgh, get _off_ of me, get off!” Geralt bucked his hips up and Eskel allowed himself to roll off Geralt and on to the soft mattress, the bulk of his torso hitting the stuffed bedding with a soft _thump_. Geralt crossed his eyes, stuck his tongue out, and made a gagging noise, using the hem of his soft shirt to wipe at his face.

“You sound like a wraith,” said Eskel. He rolled onto his side, resting his head on one soft palm.

“You keep it up with that wolf-greeting bullshit and I’ll break out my banshee impersonation.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Try me,” said Geralt.

Eskel dropped his arm to the bed and howled, long and loud and piercing and Geralt laughed, the sound muffled as he buried his face in his hands. Eskel howled again and Geralt elbowed him, jerking head towards the fireplace where a series of bangs thudded through the thin walls.

“Our neighbor’s not a fan,” said Geralt. Eskel howled once more for good measure and laid back on his side, pillowing his head on his bent arm.

Geralt rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the mattress. He too rolled onto his side, shoulders and knees pulled toward Eskel like a comma. The fire crackled and silence hung heavy in the room as they stared at each other, but it was comfortable. Geralt hadn’t, he realized, been so relaxed in months. The Path had been difficult this year, with contracts few and far between. He’d spent more nights than he cared to count under the stars with only Roach for company, seen more of his own blood leave his body than he had in any of the previous years he’d traveled. But now, he breathed deeply, inhaling the soft scent of Eskel’s soap and firewood and the snow falling outside. Geralt sidled closer, slotting one strong leg between Eskel’s knees and burying his face into his neck. He inhaled deeply.

“Hi,” Geralt whispered. Eskel’s hand drifted lightly up Geralt’s back and tangled in his hair, tugging lightly at the leather tie keeping the white locks pulled back from his face. With a little effort, the tie slid free, soft hair falling loosely across his face. Eskel carded his hands through Geralt’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Geralt sighed.

“Hi,” Eskel whispered back. “Missed you.”

“Hmm,” said Geralt. “Missed you too. So cold out there.” He shivered lightly as if to illustrate his point.

Eskel shifted, pulling himself closer to Geralt who had gone pliant on the mattress. Carefully, Eskel rearranged his arms, placing both of Geralt’s hands— _they were so cold,_ Eskel thought, _how does he get so cold?_ —between their bodies and wrapping a large arm around Geralt’s back. Geralt—not quite as bulky as Eskel but not slim, either; his tall, lithe body was packed with muscle —curled in on himself, exhaling softly. Eskel grinned as the breath tickled his neck, and they lay that way for several long minutes, feeling each other’s heartbeats as the world outside faded around them.

Eventually, Geralt shifted, uncurling slightly. He bumped Eskel’s chin with his nose and wriggled up the bed until they were face to face, still clinging to the warmth. He untucked his hands from where they had been resting between their bodies and stretched them wide, enjoying the pull of his muscles now that warmth had flooded his fingertips. Satisfied, he placed a hand on each of Eskel’s pecs and squeezed.

“Hey!”

Geralt grinned. “Missed these on the Path,” he said. “Gets lonely with without them.” He placed a soft kiss on Eskel’s lips. “And it’s so _fucking cold._ ” He could feel Eskel’s mouth curl into a smile. He returned the kiss, equally as gentle, and Geralt felt his body flood with warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> also on [the tumbl](https://bardicaberration.tumblr.com/).


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